


Watch The Queen Conquer

by HawthorneWhisperer



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-04-06
Packaged: 2018-05-20 19:39:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6022372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HawthorneWhisperer/pseuds/HawthorneWhisperer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To seal the peace between Skaikru and Azgeda a marriage must take place.</p><p>Raven Reyes volunteers to marry King Roan, mostly because someone needs to kill the bastard and it might as well be her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Technically compliant with my Roan/Echo fic, Consequences (chapter 43 in The Dropship.)

 

“I’ll do it,” Raven offered.

 

Clarke made eye contact with her for the first time since she’d come riding back into Arkadia dressed up like a fucking grounder princess.   _ Coward _ , Raven thought.  “What?  No, Raven—”

 

“You need one of us to marry the Ice Nation King.  I’m volunteering.  What’s the problem?  Think he won’t want a cripple?”

 

“No, I just—”

 

“I’m solving your problem.  When do I leave?”

 

Clarke hesitated and glanced at Lexa.   _ She made you kill Finn and now you’re her lapdog? _  Lexa nodded, her hand on the hilt of her sword, and Raven wondered if she even remembered tying her to a post and slicing her with that sword.   _ Probably not. _ “We will be sending a caravan of peace offerings tomorrow morning,” Clarke said, and Raven saw the flash in her eyes when she realized what she’d just said.   _ I’m nothing but a sacrifice.  Just like Finn— a pawn to be lost in order to win the war. _  Raven pushed back her chair and Clarke held up her hand.  “Raven, we—”

 

“You just told me I’m leaving tomorrow morning.  I should get packing,” Raven sneered, feeling everyone in the room watching her closely.  “You can finish the meeting without me.”   _ And maybe look Bellamy in the eye for once. _  She wondered if Clarke knew or cared about the trail of broken people she was leaving behind her, but in the end it didn’t matter.

 

Raven would marry the Ice King.

 

She’d marry him, and then she’d burn his country to the ground.

 

**

 

“Why are you doing this?” Bellamy asked as she gathered her things the next morning.  As it turned out, she didn’t have a whole hell of a lot to pack, but it served as an excuse to keep her hands busy.  “Clarke can find someone else.  You don’t have to.”

 

“What, you volunteering?  Gonna marry the Ice King in my place because it’s your fault we’re in this mess?”  Pain creased his forehead and she felt guilty.  “I’m doing this for us.  For Gina,” she said, a little gentler now.  “I figure, if I can get in…”  She raised her eyebrows suggestively.

 

Bellamy’s eyes widened as he caught on.  “You’re going to get yourself killed.”

 

“Way things are going, at least this way it’s my choice.”  She stuffed some torn apart radios into her backpack and stood.  “You going to talk to Clarke before she runs back to Polis?”

 

“She doesn’t seem interested in talking to me.”

 

_ Of course she isn’t.  One look at you and even the dead can see how you feel about her, and Clarke’s being a fucking coward. _  “Make her.  You both need it,” Raven said, and accepted his hand resting on her shoulder in response.  She clicked her tongue and forced a smile on her face.  “Gotta go.  Queendom awaits.”

 

**

The Ice Nation capitol was a four day’s ride away.  There weren’t enough roads for the rover, so they had to use horses and carts instead.  Thanks to Murphy and his fucking bullet she couldn’t ride, so she sat in the cart with medicine and supplies.

 

Raven didn’t mind, though.

 

It gave her time to plan.

 

**

 

Raven met King Roan for the first time two hours before their ceremony.  He dismissed her handmaidens and closed the elaborately carved door behind them.  “My lady,” he said with a courtly bow.

 

Raven laughed and the sound echoed oddly in her large, cold room.  “You people are something else.   _ My lady _ ,” she mocked with a sloppy curtsey.  “What’s next?  Want proof of my virginity?”

 

“That will hardly be necessary,” he said with a smirk. “As I would be unable to provide proof of my own.”  He was handsome in a dangerous way, not that it mattered.

 

She looked down to where the flowing blood-red gown hid her brace.  “You know I’m a cripple, right?”

 

“You know I was banished for loving the wrong person?” he retorted.

 

A spark of interest flared in her belly but she extinguished it.  “Did you want something?”

 

“Only to meet my wife before we are married.”  He eyed her with interest and she cursed her body for betraying her with a tiny flush that crawled up her neck.  “Clarke said you were beautiful.”

 

“Yeah, well, Clarke’s a fucking liar.”

 

That smirk spread across his lips again.  “That she is.  But not in this matter.  Lady Raven,” he said with another bow, and took his leave.

 

A shiver ran down her spine and she drew her black cloak tight around her shoulders.  The Ice Nation had beautiful clothing, that was for sure.

 

It was a shame she was going to have to blow it all up.

 

**

 

Roan left her at her door that night.  “We’re not supposed to consummate the marriage?  Seal the deal between Skaikru and Azgeda once and for all?” she asked.

 

Roan laughed.  “I’m flattered, my lady, but I think you’d probably smother me with a pillow once we finished.”

 

Raven found herself returning his grin.  “So you’re a coward, is what you’re saying?”

 

“Simply a man who wishes to live another day,” he returned.  He lifted her hand to his lips, kissed them lightly, and left with yet another bow.

 

Yup.

 

Definitely a shame he was going to die.

 

**

 

As it turned out, plotting the downfall of a king and the destruction of an entire country was easier said than done.  The stupid Azgeda bureaucrats expected her to learn their language, and because Raven couldn’t very well say “you’re all going to be dead in a month so why bother?” she had to submit to lessons.

 

And for the first time in her life, Raven Reyes felt  _ dumb _ .  She couldn’t get her tongue around the words, and whenever she did manage it, her pride was short lived.  It was these people that killed Gina, and these people who destroyed her chance at ever walking normally again, so feeling  _ proud _ for managing the word for water felt like a betrayal of everyone she loved.  Half the time she didn’t even bother to show up for her lessons and her tutor, a stern, dark skinned woman with a scar across her forehead, would be forced to track her down.

 

Raven had to give Helke credit— she was infinitely patient, and only seemed slightly put out by having to conduct language lessons while Raven sat on the floor and pieced together the radio.  There wasn’t much point to that exercise, since they were too far from Arkadia for the radio to do anything but buzz with static, but it made her feel useful.

 

When she wasn’t fighting her way through lessons with Helke she had to sit on the throne next to Roan and pretend to understand what was happening.  She could follow well enough (property disputes, she guessed) and judging by how often petitioners would leave with sour-but-not-angry faces Roan was probably being fair to both parties.  “We could have a translator for you,” he offered her one morning as she took her seat next to him.

 

“No point,” she said with a shrug.   _ Not while I’m plotting your death _ .

 

Except she wasn’t having much luck on the plotting front.  She didn’t need to wipe out the whole Ice Nation, just the head of the serpent.  She had assumed that blowing up the palace wouldn’t be that difficult of a challenge for her, but she’d severely underestimated their supplies.  She knew they wouldn’t have guns, but she had assumed they would have...something.  Explosives, maybe, or even just a lot of wood that she could set on fire.  

 

But the royal palace was a marble building, and no matter where she casually roamed while exploring she couldn’t find anything to help her bring it down.  That left assassination, and while she wasn’t against the idea, she also wasn’t sure she would be quick enough to kill everyone she needed to before she was discovered.  It wasn’t death that worried her, though.

 

It was the idea of failing Gina again.

 

**

 

“So why did your mother banish you?” Raven asked around a mouthful of fish.  They ate that a lot up here— fish, and potatoes, and other things that handled the cold better than the more delicate agriculture of Trikru lands.  She was getting used to it still, but pretty much anything was better than the tasteless rations up on the Ark so she wasn’t about to complain.  His words from the wedding kept rolling around in her brain and it was only human to be curious, after all.

 

“I fell in love with the wrong woman.”  He speared a roasted potato and popped it into his mouth.

 

“You’re going to have to do better than that.”

 

Roan chewed for a moment.  “She was related to the previous king.  My mother killed most of her family, but her branch was deemed too unimportant to bother.  My mother found out and threatened to kill her, so I offered to take the punishment in her place.”

 

For a second, Raven was reminded so strongly of Finn she couldn’t breathe.   _ He’s nothing like Finn _ , she reminded herself.  Finn was sweetness and stupid jokes and floppy hair, not cold and implacable with sharp, dangerous features.   “What happened to her?”

 

“Skaikru.”  His eyes were hard as he finally met her gaze.  “She was the messenger sent to lure the guards away from Mount Weather.  She did not survive Skaikru’s retaliation.”

 

_ Gina, with her curly hair and stupid jokes and quiet patience.  Gina, the woman who softened Bellamy’s rough edges with her kindness, who never seemed to mind when Raven moved slower than everyone else.  Gina, dead because of Ice Nation’s treachery. “ _ So she’s the reason my friend is dead.”

 

“My mother is the reason your friend is dead.  Disobeying the queen’s orders was a death sentence.  Echo had no choice.”

 

Raven looked down at her dinner.  She understood why Bellamy and Pike did what they did, but she hated what it had cost Bellamy.  And now she felt oddly guilty, even though she’d never met the dead woman.  “I didn’t realize you’d lost her so recently,” she said finally.

 

“She may have died recently, but Echo was lost to me long ago,” Roan replied, but for the first time Raven heard something other than carelessness or mockery in his voice.

 

_ Pain _ .

 

And a pain she knew all too well.  “Your mother was a real bitch, you know,” she said instead of anything kind.  She knew from experience that kindness when you were vulnerable was worse than cruelty, because it meant others could see your wounds.

 

Roan snorted and a spark of triumph flickered in her chest.  “And now she’s dead.”

 

**

 

The horse was a surprise, but it was the saddle that left her gaping.  

 

Roan sat next to the midnight stallion (or mare, how the hell was she supposed to know which was which?) on his white horse.  He was a king, on a literal white horse, and he looked so fucking  _ right _ like that it made Raven want to hurl.  “I can’t ride,” she’d snapped when he sent a servant to bring her down to the stables to see her new horse.

 

But her anger never really seemed to bother him.  “Of course you can— I’ve had a saddle made for you.”  He nodded to a groom who slung it over the horse and Raven moved closer to inspect it.  It looked like a modified side saddle, with a high cradle in the back to help her keep her seat.  It would be easier to ride without having to throw her leg over the horse’s back, and this looked like she could simply boost herself up to the horn and drape her useless leg over it herself.  With steps, she wouldn’t even need an assist to climb up.

 

She wasn’t sure if Roan knew it, but he’d just given her freedom.  Her leg hurt more and more these days so she rarely left the palace except to wander through the market in the courtyard, and she was starting to go crazy.  She thought she would handle confinement better, since that’s all life on the Ark was, but on the Ark she had spacewalks to look forward to and friends to talk to, but here she had the palace, the square, Helke, and her handmaidens.  In the months since her injury her world had started to shrink, and now that she was on a possible-suicide mission in a foreign country it had shrunk even further.

 

But with a horse— and a saddle she could actually use— she could explore the hills outside the capitol.  Maybe even the frozen lakes she’d heard Roan talk about with his advisor one morning over breakfast.

 

Against her better judgment, she gave him a genuine smile.  “Thank you.”

 

“You’re welcome,” he said, his sharp features still solemn.

 

Raven moved closer but the horse whinnied and she backed away, only to find a smile playing with the corners of Roan’s lips.  “She’s harmless, I promise,” he teased.

 

“Go float yourself,” she replied, but then she was laughing too.

  
  


**

 

“Breakfast!” trilled Nasha, her handmaiden.  (She still wasn’t used to that— having  _ servants _ .  Who brought her breakfast in bed and helped her dress when she had to go to dinner with Roan and whatever merchant or trader was being honored by eating with the king.)  “And letters!” Nasha chirped.   She was a sweet girl who always made sure to use English and never seemed to notice Raven’s brace, but Raven didn’t trust people who were that happy all the time.

 

She also didn’t trust anyone who was Ice Nation, but that went without saying.

 

But she liked Nasha, in spite of her constant cheerfulness, and accepted the breakfast tray with good grace.  Nasha busied herself opening the drapes to let in the morning light, stirred the fire, and then slipped out quietly.  The first letter was from Abby, full of fussing about her leg and wondering if she was taking it easy.  Raven skimmed it and tossed it aside, because being reminded of her leg was the last thing she felt like doing right now.  She took a bite of the lightly sugared oatmeal and opened her next one.

 

It was from Monty and he detailed the progress he’d made in her radio problem.  She knew how to boost the signal from her end well enough, but they still had to figure out how to place towers between the heart of Azgeda territory and Skaikru.  Roan had agreed to give her access to any ruins that might work, but so far none of them were high enough.  Raven had spent the better part of the last two weeks on her horse (Newton, because Raven didn’t discover that she was a mare until she’d already decided on a name) scouting locations, but Monty now wanted to try something more like the balloon she and Wick had rigged up.  Giving the Ice Nation access to radios wasn’t really part of the whole  _ bring them down from the inside _ plan, but so far, Raven wasn’t having any brilliant ideas.  She almost wished she had Clarke with her, but that would mean talking to Clarke and she didn’t really want to do that.  And the radio problem kept her busy, at least.  The last two paragraphs of Monty’s letter were mostly just an excuse to talk about Miller, and Raven smiled sadly to herself.   _ That boy has it bad _ , she thought.

 

There was a knock on the door so she set her tray aside and went to stand, still musing on what Monty had suggested.

 

Except in her distraction, Raven forgot to grab for her crutch.

 

She  _ forgot _ she couldn’t fucking stand unaided, and went crashing to the ground.  She grabbed at the bed but it was too late, and she brought the furs and blankets down along with her tray instead.  Raven landed in a heap and cried out, because her leg was fucking numb most times except for now, when it was screaming in pain.  The bowl shattered against the cold marble floor, the oatmeal splattered, and the spoon went flying across the room to land near the hearth.

 

The door burst open and Roan entered her chamber.  He found her huddled on the ground with tears tracking down her face and if she’d bothered to look at him, she would have seen him looking worried for the first time in the six weeks they’d been married.  She would have laughed at his face  if she wasn’t in agony from her lower back to her knee, a throbbing, burning pain that ripped through her with every beat of her heart.  “What happened?” he asked with a gentle voice.

 

“I fell,” she snapped.  Raven tried to make herself stop crying and pushed up, but her back screamed in pain and so did she, with gritted teeth.

 

“Here,” he said, and went to slide his arms underneath her.

 

“Don’t touch me.”

 

“I’m trying—”

 

“I said, don’t fucking touch me,” Raven snarled.  She’d gotten comfortable here, where no one seemed to care that she couldn’t walk normally because everyone had their own scars, not counting the ones they inflicted on themselves.  Nasha’s sister had lost three fingers to the cold, and Helke was missing an ear thanks to the same.  It wasn’t the same as her leg, but it helped her feel a little less like she was broken and a little more like she was just another person who survived this hell.

 

She’d gotten  _ used _ to being Ice Nation and forgot that they were her enemy.  And now here was their leader, crouched over her with concern written on his handsome face.  It made her angry and sick and sad all at once.  Roan surveyed her and nodded.  “Then get up.”

 

“What do you think I’m doing?”

 

“You don’t want my help.  So get up on your own,” he replied.

 

She ground her teeth together and rolled herself to her back, which eased the pain in her hip somewhat, and then managed to sit.  Roan walked across to her hearth and grabbed the chair she used to read at night and dragged it back to her.  She looked at it warily, and then up at him.  Roan tipped his head toward the chair and then to her bed, and she understood.  With one hand on the seat of the chair and one fisting in the feather mattress she pulled until she could curl her good leg underneath herself.  From there it wasn’t much farther to pull herself back into the bed.

 

Roan gave up watching once she was on the mattress and brought her the furs she’d torn off.  He tucked them carefully around her, and his eyes only darted to the contrast between the skin of her chest and the ice blue fabric of her nightgown once or twice.

 

“I’ll have Nasha find a healer for you,” he said finally, and then he was gone and she was alone with her pain.

  
  


**

 

It was another eight days before Raven could walk without blinking back tears, and another two days after that before she got her response from Abby.  She’d written the day she fell, and true to his word Roan had sent her a healer, but the healer could only suggest a mild pain tea that was better than nothing but barely managed to take the edge off the pain at best.  Abby’s letter was full of sympathy and exercises that would strengthen her remaining useable muscles— and a plea for Raven to return to Arkadia and let Abby see it for herself— but not much else.  

 

Raven set the letter back down on her breakfast try and frowned.  Nasha had forgotten to bring her coffee and Raven had come to crave that morning cup with alarming regularity in the past two months.  She grabbed her crutch and eased herself across the floor.  One of her guards had a crush on Nasha (it was the most painfully obvious thing since Monty Green met Nathan Miller) and she knew he would happily chase her down in the kitchens.

 

But her door was locked.

 

From the outside.

 

Panic poured into her stomach like a waterfall as she slammed her hand against the door over and over again, calling for her guards, for Nasha, for anyone.   _ Did something happen with Skaikru?  Am I prisoner now? _

 

No one answered, so she made her way around the foot of her bed to the door that adjoined Roan’s room.  That was locked too, but he opened it almost immediately.  “Intruders in the palace,” he informed her.  “The royal family is under lockdown until they’ve been caught.”

 

“Intruders in the palace means you hide in your bedroom?” she asked, arching an eyebrow.  That didn’t seem like him.  At all.  “And who’s trying to kill you?”

 

“You might be surprised to find that I have many enemies,” he grinned and stepped aside, gesturing her inside.

 

Raven hadn’t seen his rooms yet, but she was interested to find that they were roughly the same as hers.  His fireplace was on the opposite side and the curtains hanging from his bed were dark blue instead of light blue, but otherwise they were roughly equal.  “You have a couch?” she asked and started walking towards it.  “Why do you get a couch and I only get chairs?”

 

“Did you want a couch?”

 

“I do,” she admitted.  “And to answer your previous question, no, I’m not at all surprised you have people out to kill you.  Any idea who it is?”  He wasn’t treating her like her status had changed so she would just have to trust that Clarke or Bellamy hadn’t done something monumentally stupid that would get her executed.

 

Roan motioned to the couch and she took a seat while he settled into a chair to her side.  “Disgruntled supporters of my mother, this time.  Normally I wouldn’t allow myself to be locked in like this, but the captain of my guard thinks it’s prudent that I stay out of sight until any other sympathizers have been rounded up.”

 

“And why I am locked up?”

 

“Because if they think there’s the slightest chance you’re carrying my child, they’ll kill you too.”

 

A gear shifted into place in her brain.  “Wait, people don’t know that we’ve never...?”

 

“I thought it prudent to leave that to their imaginations,” he said with a grin.

 

“If you die, who takes over?”  That was something that had been bothering her as she tried desperately to come up with a plan that was better than  _ Me, with a knife, in the dark _ .  At the very least she needed a list of names to work from, in case it came to that.

 

“I have a nephew.  He’s in hiding until he is of age or I have an heir, to protect him from just these sorts of attacks.”   _ Well there goes that idea. _  Roan frowned at her in thought and stood up with an easy grace.

 

“A nephew?  You have...a brother or sister?”  Raven still wasn’t used to that being a regular occurrence instead of just the weird connection Bellamy and Octavia had.

 

“Had.  A sister.”  He returned with a blanket that he draped over her shoulders.  It was fur, thick and plush, and instantly enveloped her in its warmth.  Even with the fire it was still chilly in the palace in the mornings and she wondered when it would finally be as warm as it had been in Arkadia when she left.  “It won’t be warm here until we’re well into summer,” he explained, as if he guessed her train of thought.

 

“Why don’t you do something about that?”

 

“Change the seasons?” he asked with a cock of his head.  His smile annoyed her, mostly because it made her stomach do something it hadn’t done since she stopped talking to Wick.

 

Raven made a face.  “The heat.  You managed to fix up this giant building to use, but you couldn’t be bothered to hack the heating system?”

 

“And how do you propose we do that without oil refineries?” he asked, amused.

 

She rolled her eyes.  “Solar, dumbass.”

 

“I take it you haven’t experienced a winter in Azgeda,” he replied with a chuckle.  “If we relied on the sun alone, we’d die much quicker than we do already.”

 

“Then wind.  You’ve got all those big ass hills— use them.”

 

Roan stopped looking like he was going to laugh.  “You would know how to do that?”

 

“Rig a wind turbine system?”  She thought for a moment.  “I could figure something out.  It might not be perfect, but it’d be better than this,” she said, pointing to the fireplace.  She’d noticed small grates scattered throughout the palace, but now that she was thinking about it, that could work to her advantage in other ways too.   _ If they get used to heat piping in through those vents I could gas them, _ she thought.   _ I’d still have to find the right chemicals, but at least I’ll have a delivery system in place when I do. _

 

“Clarke said you were smart,” Roan said, bringing her back from plotting mass murder.

 

Her name caught Raven off guard.  She’d managed to forget her anger and resentment in the past few months, mostly since very few Ice Nation people seemed to give a damn about Clarke being fucking  _ Wanheda _ these days.  “Clarke can go float herself,” she spat.  Roan looked at her for so long a blush started to creep up her neck.  “What?  She left us.”

 

“Some could say the same for you,” he pointed out.

 

“No, I agreed to marry you to keep your people from wiping mine out.”

 

“And Clarke has her hands full in Polis, doing the same.”

 

“Since when do you know Clarke?”

 

“Since we were  _ heda’s _ prisoners,” Roan said.  “Did you not know that?”

 

“I never asked.”

 

“Ah.”  He glanced towards a chessboard set up near the corner of his room.  “But it looks like we will be stuck here for a few hours while my guards track down the intruders.  Ever played?”

 

Raven wrapped herself more snugly in his rabbit fur blanket.  It smelled a little bit like him, and she didn’t want to admit it, but it was nice.  “I take it you like to lose, then,” she said with a mischievous grin.

 

Roan chuckled, and the sound warmed her chest just a little.  “That sounded like a challenge, my lady.”

 

“Stop calling me  _ my lady _ and bring that over here so I can kick your ass,” she bragged.

 

He returned with the board balanced between his hands and set it on the low table in front of her.  “Your move, Raven,” he said as he leaned toward her.

 

The sound of her name on his lips made her heart stutter, but she raised her eyebrow and moved the rook, letting one side of her mouth curl into a smirk.  “And now it’s yours, Roan.”

 

**

 

“Best three out of five?” Raven said when Roan won his second of three games.  She’d won the first handily, but lost the second in so few moves she could have sworn he’d cheated.  

 

He flicked her king down in submission and smiled.  “I never thought you’d like to lose so much.”

 

“Please,” she snorted.  “Those last two games?  Luck.  Pure and simple.  You haven’t seen nothing yet.”  She shifted on the couch to ease the pressure on her hip and the blanket slipped off her shoulder.  She was still just wearing the flimsy ice-blue nightgown she wore to sleep in, with only delicate straps to hold itup.  Roan’s eyes darted to the bare slice of skin and he licked his lips but said nothing.  “Line ‘em up,” she ordered, and with what appeared to be great effort he redirected his attention to the board.

 

His guards had brought them lunch an hour ago as well as a report on the intruders.  Two had been caught, but they had reason to believe a third was still hiding in the palace, along with a handful of sympathetic servants.  Raven picked up a remaining chunk of cheese and popped it into her mouth, washing it down with some red wine.  “You said you had a sister,” she remarked.  “What happened to her?”

 

“Illness.  While I was in exile.”

 

Raven had seen hints that winter illnesses took more than their fair share of Azgeda citizens.  “You should talk to Abby.  She might have ideas.  Keep the deaths down during the winter.”

 

“I’ll take that into advisement,” he said.  “Sky people have no siblings, correct?”

 

“Nope, none of us.  Well, just Bellamy and Octavia, but that’s what got their mother floated.”

 

“Floated?” he prompted, and nodded to the board.  “And loser goes first, my queen.”

 

She narrowed her eyes at him but made the first move.  “Sent out the airlock.  No air in space, but generally you freeze to death first.”

 

“Sounds barbaric.”

 

“Says the man whose people behead their enemies.”

 

“Beheading is quick and painless.  And we do not execute people for having children without my permission.”

 

“It wasn’t like that.”  She watched him move his bishop and picked up her knight to counter, but then thought better of it.  “We had finite resources.  Not just clothes and food, but a finite amount of  _ air. _  We couldn’t afford to have people having however many kids they wanted.”

 

“But a punishment of death?”

 

“Their mother knew the rules.”  Raven made her move and watched him study the board, his long hair hanging down the sides of his face.  The firelight put his sharp features into even starker relief.

 

“Then our people aren’t as different as you think.  Did your family—” he seemed to decide that his question was improper and changed tactics.   “Do you have family in Arkadia?”

 

Raven snorted into her wine.  “My mother was a bitch.  And now she’s dead.”

 

Roan laughed with her.  “Something else we have in common, then.”

 

**

 

A couch arrived the next morning.

  
  


**

 

Raven got drunk at the next feast.  She didn’t mean to— not entirely— but that shit was  _ boring _ when everyone spoke a different language.  She’d managed to memorize a few key phrases, but she’d skipped her language lessons on the Ark for a reason.  Physics and chemistry?  Those made sense to her.  But languages?  She’d never quite managed the knack of picking words out of what sounded like babble to her ears, so she never really tried.  Roan clearly didn’t care that much, and he did try to include her when people would approach the high table and ask him a question, but eventually she told him not to bother.

 

So that left wine.  Lots and lots of wine.  She liked wine more than moonshine, because moonshine was just something you suffered through to get drunk.  Wine, however, was something that could be enjoyed  _ while _ you got drunk.

 

She had just finished her third glass when Roan stood and the festivities quieted.  She had been to enough of these shindigs that she knew that was her cue to stand as well.  He held out his hand and the muscles in his forearm stood out when she put a little more weight on it than usual to push herself up, but if he realized her hip was bothering her he didn’t say anything, just curled his fingers around hers and led her down from the dias.  Everyone else in the room knelt as they walked out, and Raven had to admit:

 

She could get used to this aspect of being queen.  The pageantry — and the clothes, like the sleek black dress Nasha had produced for tonight’s event— was kind of fun.  People  _ bowed _ to her, and begged her permission to speak, and tonight, arm and arm with Roan in a high-necked-but-backless dress and a small tiara perched on her brow, she honestly felt like a goddess.

 

She could feel the heat from his arm burning through his shirt and the silky sleeves of her dress as he led her from the hall and up the grand staircase.  More than once tonight she’d caught him watching her out of the corner of his eye with undisguised interest, so as they started walking down the torchlit corridor towards their rooms she drew closer to him.

 

But apparently, he was not nearly as quick on the uptake as she thought he would be, because he left her at her door with just a nod of his head.

 

Raven walked into her room and reached for the bell to call Nasha, but the sound of Roan’s door closing changed her mind.  She felt brave from the wine, almost giddy, and her body was aching for something she’d thought she’d stopped wanting when Wick walked away from her with that pale, angry face.

 

So she opened the door to his room.

 

Roan had already taken off his half cape, leaving him in a tightly fitted shirt in the dark blue color he clearly favored.  He watched her cross the floor to where he stood as still as a statue.  She pulled off her bracelets as she walked, dropping them on a small table, and lifted the tiara from her elaborately braided updo.

 

Roan took it from her hands and placed it delicately next to his bed.  He tucked a stray wisp of hair behind her ear and let his finger trace the line of her jaw.  “You drank a lot of wine at the feast tonight,” he whispered, his light eyes darkening as he spoke.

 

“I still know what I want,” Raven declared, and closed the distance between them.  He was taller than her, but not by much, so all she had to do was tip her face up to capture his lips.  His beard was softer than she thought it would be, but it still rasped against her palm when she cupped his cheek.

 

It took him a moment to kiss her back, but when he did his arm banded around her waist and pressed her so tightly against him it took her breath away.  His fingers splayed over the bare skin of her lower back and sparks of electricity ran up her spine.  This was not a man who kissed gently, that was for sure, and his teeth nibbled on her lower lip almost immediately.  She slipped her fingers into his hair and pulled, making him hiss.  The hand not holding her against him went to the clasp of her gown at the nape of her neck.  He fumbled with it for a moment and then it came free, sliding down to her sternum.  Roan followed its path with his lips, nosing it down until Raven stepped back and peeled it down to her waist.

 

He pulled his shirt over his head in one swift movement and she couldn’t help it— her jaw dropped.  “You’re kidding me,” she said and trailed her hands across his abs.  “How many abs do you  _ have?” _

 

“The usual amount,” he smirked, and caught her in his arms again.  He nipped at her shoulder and palmed her breast in one hand while she took her time with her own hands, exploring every inch of his skin.  It was hot to the touch, and his muscles moved smoothly under her fingers.  He went to push her dress down and Raven stepped back involuntarily when his hands touched her hips.  “I know it’s there,” he said, and she’d never heard him sound so gentle before.

 

“I have to be on my back,” she said, fighting the instinct to look to the floor.   _ If he wants me, he needs to want me as I am.   _ “Or sitting.”

 

Roan’s hand curved around her cheek and he brought his lips to within a hairsbreadth of hers.  “Then that’s where you’ll be,” he said and kissed her again.

 

Things started to blur together after that, but not because of the wine.  She barely even felt that anymore, too focused on the way they moved together to even remember the feast.  With Finn it was always gentle and familiar; comfortable, even their first time, and with Bellamy it was just about forgetting.  Wick was always so careful with her, trying to respect her boundaries, and she appreciated it but also resented that he let her presumed limitations dictate what she wanted.  Maybe that wasn’t entirely fair of her, but in the end she drove him away and figured she’d spend the rest of her time on the ground alone and broken.

 

But with Roan, she didn’t feel like that.  He was careful, yes, but she didn’t feel delicate and breakable in his hands.  She felt strong and powerful, and when he laid her back on the bed with her legs hanging off and knelt between them, she felt like a goddamn queen.  His tongue was as clever as she’d hoped it would be, and when he trapped her clit between his lips and thrashed it with his tongue she screamed as she came, hard and panting, and then he was standing between her legs, hooking her good one behind him, and pressing into her.

 

For a moment, her vision went black.  But then every sense kicked into overdrive and she dug her nails into his back as he leaned over her, thrusting slow and deep.  Raven craned her neck and kissed him, meeting him with just as much fierceness as he gave.  He watched her with those ice blue eyes when he slid his fingers to her clit again, bringing her to her peak one more time before his thrusts lost their rhythm and he came.

 

She let him help her the rest of the way into the bed and laid down by her side, not bothering with the furs.  The fire was going but the air still held a little of the day’s warmth, and Raven rested her head on his chest even though they were both sticky with sweat.  A laugh rumbled against her ear, and she looked up at him.  “What? What’s so funny?”

 

He pushed back a few braids that had fallen out of their pins and smiled tenderly.  “Just wondering if you’ve decided not to kill me yet.”

 

“Who said I was going to kill you?”

 

“You’ve been planning to kill me since the day we met,” he countered.

 

Raven tried to summon indignation, but she couldn’t.  “I might still do it,” she said, but she couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across her lips.

 

Roan reached underneath his pillow and pulled out a dagger.  “Here.  Do it, and let me die a happy man.”

 

Raven considered the dagger, testing its weight in her hand.  “You killed my friend,” she said, serious.

 

“My mother killed your friend,” he replied.  “And as we’ve established, the bitch is dead.”

 

“Would you have done it?”  Raven raised herself onto an elbow and looked at the way the dagger caught the light.  “Blow up Mount Weather?”

 

Roan looked thoughtful.  “Your people should not have been in there,” he said, and when she started to protest he shook his head.  “Not without the consent of the rest of the Coalition, if you intended to join.  It looked bad, and it brought about fears that Skaikru would become the Mountain Men themselves.  But they were civilians inside the mountain, posing no immediate threat to Azgeda.”  He looked her straight in the eye.  “I would not have done what my mother did.  You have my word on that.”

 

“And I can trust your word?”

 

“You’re the one with the dagger, not me.  If you don’t believe me, use it.”

 

Raven returned his gaze for a long moment and handed the dagger back to him.  She hoped Gina could forgive her for it, but the vengeance she’d been dreaming about for the past three months no longer filled her with purpose, only dread.  Instead, Raven lifted her finger to the scars near his temple and traced them.  “When did you get these?”

 

“All Azgeda warriors get them when they come of age.”

 

“Did you choose them?”

 

“I did.  I thought— “ he broke off and grinned ruefully.  “I thought they looked fearsome.  But I was only sixteen.”

 

Raven tried and failed to hide her smile.  “Fearsome, sure.” A thought occurred to her.  “Should I have them?  If I’m— if I’m your queen?”

 

“You mean if you stay and don’t bring the royal palace down around my ears in a clamor of destruction?”  He pulled her back down to his chest and fine, she would admit it— she kind of liked it there.  “If you want them, yes.  You could get them.”

 

“Where?”

 

“Where would you want?”

 

Raven leaned up again and shrugged.  “Is there a special meaning to them?”

 

“A person chooses what is meaningful to them, but there’s no real ritual behind them.”

 

“Where would you have me get them?” she asked, curious.

 

Roan brushed his finger across the curve of her jaw.  “Here, I think,” he whispered.  His eyes were unfocused, and a surge of arousal jolted through her.  It was heady, having this much power over him.

 

She liked it.

 

“Why there?” she asked, bringing her mind back to the present.

 

He tipped his head up and kissed where his finger had just been.  “So I could do that,” he said.  Raven buried her face in his neck and laughed.  “What?” he asked.

 

“Nothing,” she giggled.  “It’s just— you.  Being...sweet.”

 

“I can be sweet,” he protested.

 

Raven snorted at that.  “Sure, if you say so.”  Roan laughed along with her, his hand tracing the dips of her spine.  She looked down the plane of his chest and abdomen, her eye catching on a long scar near his hip.  “What’s this from?” she asked, touching it gingerly.

 

“Your Clarke,” he replied.

 

“Clarke Griffin?”

 

“I’m fairly sure you only know the one,” he said wryly.

 

“She left,” Raven admitted.  “We did everything for her, and she ran.”  It was like a black rot on her heart, that knowledge.  Raven hadn’t been good enough for her mother to stay sober, she hadn’t been good enough for Finn to stay faithful, and in the end, she wasn’t good enough for Clarke to stay.

 

“It’s no easy thing, looking at the faces of people you saved.”

 

“I’m not just someone she saved.  I’m her  _ friend _ .  And she left us.”

 

“Us?” he asked, and she could practically hear him raising an eyebrow.

 

“Me and...Bellamy.”

 

“Ah.  Bellamy.”  The way he said his name, she knew he understood what Clarke and Bellamy were to each other.

 

“I thought— sure, I can see why she’d leave me behind.  That makes sense.  But Bellamy?  I never thought she’d leave him, but she did, so I guess I never really knew her.”

 

“I don’t think she meant to hurt you,” Roan said softly.  “And I’ve seen her with him.  She doesn’t want to hurt him, I know that.  She offered me his life in exchange for his, you know.”

 

“And then he went to Polis to get her and she sent him away.”

 

“To protect the peace.”

 

“You think so?” Raven asked.

 

“I think that was part of it.  I also think she was scared of this— of having hurt you, in spite of trying not to.  But if you hate her, say the word and I’ll give you her head.”

 

Raven sat up and looked at him.  “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

 

“Mostly.  Killing Clarke Griffin would cause a lot of chaos and I would not enjoy it, but I pledged my life to yours.  You want her dead, I’ll kill her.”

 

“I don’t want her dead,” Raven admitted.  

 

“I know,” he grinned.  “Why do you think I offered?”

 

Raven scoffed at him, but laid her head back on his shoulder.  “Go float yourself,” she muttered.

 

Roan just worked his fingers into her hair and chuckled.

 

**

 

“The petitioner is requesting that King Roan grant him access to the lake that abuts his property for fishing,” Helke whispered in her ear.

 

“He can’t fish the lake on his land?”

 

“He owns the land.  The king owns the lake, so he must request the right in person,” Helke explained.  Roan spoke, Helke listened, and then leaned to Raven’s ear again.  “He has been given permission,” Helke explained.

 

Raven looked over and caught Roan’s eye.  He looked amused but relaxed, his lean limbs sprawled out across his throne.  Raven winked at him and he gave her the tiniest of winks back.  If they were lucky, they would get through the next three cases easily and would have a few moments alone in his solar.  She’d spent a particularly diverting lunch there last week, perched on his desk with his head buried between her thighs, and she was really looking forward to a repeat of that.

 

There was a bustle at the back of the throne room, and Roan’s herald stepped forward, stamping his staff on the marble floor.  Raven didn’t quite catch what he said, but she didn’t need to because she recognized the three people that pushed through the crush of petitioners in the back.

 

Clarke strode purposefully across the hall, her hair looking more like Clarke’s and less like a grounder princess than when she first reappeared in Arkadia.  Monty trailed her a few steps to her left and Bellamy flanked her on her right, looking grim and determined.

 

Roan sat up straight as Raven’s friends knelt in front of their thrones.  “King Roan, Queen Raven, Skaikru has come to plead for your help,” Clarke said in a strong, clear voice.

 

“Rise,” Roan ordered, and the three of them climbed to their feet.  He spared Raven a glance, but she was too busy studying their faces.  Bellamy had new bruises and scrapes, but that was nothing new for him— it seemed like every week she’d known him he’d gotten into something or other that left a mark.  Clarke’s skin was unmarked but there were worryingly dark circles under her eyes, and Monty looked concerned and fidgety.  “What is it that Skaikru requires?” Roan asked.

 

Clarke’s eyes found Raven’s.  “We need your help, Your Majesty.  Both of you.”  The people lining the walls started to mutter, but Roan’s herald banged the butt of his staff until they quieted.  “We’re facing a new threat, one we cannot survive alone.”

 

“Has  _ heda _ sent you?”

 

“In a way,” Clarke said.  “I beg a private audience with you, King Roan.  And your queen, if she will consent.”  Roan waited for Raven to nod before he did so as well, and Clarke, Monty and Bellamy followed them behind the thrones to Roan’s solar.

 

The moment the door closed behind them, Raven scooped Monty into her arms.  “Are you okay?” she asked, and his arms encircled her too.

 

“We are,” Bellamy answered, and Raven let Monty go long enough to hug him too.  “But we need you.”

 

Bellamy let her go and Raven found herself face to face with Clarke for the first time in months.  Clarke looked nervous, like Raven was going to haul off and hit her, and weary.  It was the weariness that shattered the last of Raven’s resolve, because she always hated to see Clarke carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders.  Raven opened her arms and Clarke stepped into them without a second of hesitation.  It felt good— right, even.  “What’s been happening?” she asked, her face still in Clarke’s messy blonde waves.  Abby and Monty’s letters had hinted at trouble within the Coalition, but as far as Roan’s ambassadors had reported, the peace talks were proceeding slowly and painfully, but proceeding.  “Is it Lexa?”

 

Clarke stepped back and took a shaky breath.  “Lexa’s gone.  Disappeared.  We don’t— we can’t find her.”  Bellamy squeezed Clarke’s shoulder and she shut her eyes to regroup.  “But there’s more.  Jaha, he’s back, and...Monty?”

 

“He’s got this artificial intelligence.  She launched the bombs, if we trust Murphy on it,” Monty said.

 

“Trust Murphy,” Raven scoffed.  “Right.”

 

“He does seem to be telling the truth.  About this, at least,” Bellamy interjected.

 

“We think she has Lexa,” Clarke added.

 

“She?”

 

“The artificial intelligence.  ALIE, Jaha calls her,” Monty explained.

 

“With Lexa gone, the Coalition is disintegrating,” Clarke said.  “They might attack us, or you.”

 

“My ambassador—” Roan started.

 

“Your ambassador is dead.  Murdered by another ambassador, perhaps for trying to save Lexa,” Bellamy said.  His eyes were hard as he looked between Raven and Roan.  “We thought you’d know that by now.”

 

Roan didn’t seemed bothered by Bellamy’s suspicion.  “Clearly, we didn’t.  What do you need with me and my wife?”

 

All three of them snapped their eyes to Raven in curiousity.  “I did marry him, if you remember,” she deadpanned.  “What do you need?”

 

Clarke looked at her.  “We need you.  You and Monty.  Here.  We don’t know how far ALIE can reach yet, but Monty doesn’t think she’s made inroads this far.”

 

“So what are we looking at?”

 

“An artificial intelligence more advanced than I’ve ever dealt with,” Monty started.  “But that’s...not all.”

 

“We need you too,” Clarke informed Roan.  “You found me when I was in hiding.  And we need you to find Lexa, if you can.”

 

Roan laughed.  “You weren’t that hard to find.”   

 

The corner of Clarke’s mouth flickered with something like a smile.  “I was harder to capture than you’d like to pretend.  And Lexa isn’t hiding— she’s been taken.”

 

“If I leave, I risk my life.  Why should I abandon my people for your  _ heda _ ?”

 

“She’s your  _ heda _ too,” Clarke argued.  “And you wouldn’t be abandoning them.”  She looked pointedly at Raven.

 

Roan prowled to Raven’s side and slung an arm across her back.  “You want me to leave Raven in charge.”

 

“Queen Raven of Azgeda,” Bellamy corrected him.  “She married you.  She can rule just as well as you can.”

 

“You’re dismissed,” Roan told her friends.  “I will confer with my wife.”

 

They left with wary glances at Roan, and Bellamy scowled the whole way out.  “What did you do to Bellamy?” Raven asked the moment they were gone.

 

Roan shrugged.  “Spear to the leg.  He’s fine.  What do you think?”

 

“About what?  The artificial intelligence, or you leaving?”

 

“Both.”  Roan leaned back against the edge of his desk, late morning sunlight streaming in behind him.  Part of Raven wanted to kiss him until they forgot about the war that just showed up at their doorstep, but she knew she couldn’t.

 

“I think we do it.  You go, I stay here with Monty.”

 

“I go, I might not come back.”

 

“Feeling that old?” she mocked.

 

“That realistic,” he said sternly, but his eyes were smiling.  “If I go after Lexa, I might not survive.”

 

“You stay, you might not survive either.”

 

“You’d kill me for that?”

 

“For turning your back on my people?  Yes.  Besides, you’ll do it.  Azgeda has the largest army, but if the Coalition falls, we lose all the trading routes Lexa ensured for us.  Lose the trade—”

 

“-- we starve next winter,” Roan finished.  “When did you start paying attention when my advisors speak?”

 

“I’m smarter than you think,” she threw back.  “Look, I don’t like Lexa at all.  I’d happily kill her myself, in fact, but we need her.  You go save her, I’ll save the rest of the world.”

 

**

 

It took the better part of a day to work out their plan, but once it was in place Roan called every Azgeda bureaucrat in the capitol into the throne room.  Clarke, Bellamy, and Monty were there too, watching from the shadows.  Raven still couldn’t manage more than a handful of words their language, but Roan had told her what he would say in advance.

 

_ Our lives are in danger _ , he proclaimed, standing in front of his throne while Raven sat to his left.   _ Skaikru has brought word of a grave threat gathering on our borders; a threat that has taken Lexa of the Trikru.  We vowed fealty to the Coalition, and without Lexa, the Coalition is in danger.  _ They had all agreed that leaving the AI out of it was for the best, at least for now.   _  I will be leaving today to honor that vow, and while I am gone Queen Raven of Azgeda will rule in my stead.  I ask that you kneel before your queen, and pledge her your loyalty until I return. _

 

Roan glanced at her and she took his cue to stand.  The bureaucrats and advisors knelt and she did her best to look regal, but then Roan walked down the stairs to the space where petitioners usually stood.  Raven tried to pretend she understood what was going on, but when Roan knelt in front of her the air left her lungs.  She heard them say the words Roan had told her about, but her ears were buzzing as he bowed his head before her.  

 

She clenched her hands into fists and allowed herself one shaky breath.  She’d practiced the words over and over again with Roan until she had them perfect, but still she fixed her gaze on a blank spot on the wall behind them.   _ Rise, and serve your queen _ , she intoned.

 

As one, they rose.

 

**

 

Roan’s groom brought his horse to the courtyard behind the palace walls along with Newton and a third horse, the swiftest one in the royal stables.  Raven let Newton nuzzle at her for a moment before taking her reins and leading her to Clarke.  “This is Newton,” she told Clarke seriously.  “You take care of her, or I kill you.”

 

Clarke smiled, and Raven hoped her friend would survive this next fight.   _ She has to _ , she reminded herself.   _ And she always does. _  “I will,” Clarke promised, and hugged her with tears tracking down her cheeks.  “Thank you,” she whispered in Raven’s ear.

 

“Take care of yourself,” Raven whispered back, her own voice thick with unshed tears.

 

“I will.”

 

Raven let go of Clarke before she changed her mind and had Roan’s guards throw her in a room and keep her there until the danger had passed and turned to Bellamy.  He looked a little less haunted, a little less broken than when she left Arkadia.  “I don’t give a shit about your horse,” she said to break the tension, and Bellamy laughed.  It was good to see, and she didn’t fail to note the way Clarke’s shoulders seemed to loosen at the sound.

 

Bellamy pulled her into a hug.  “Are you okay here?” he asked, and Raven knew that if she wanted, he’d kill anyone in their way to get her home.

 

“I am,” she told him.  “I promise.  I’m sorry I didn’t— I won’t be able to avenge Gina.”  

 

Bellamy tensed in her arms, but shook his head.  “I don’t think she’d want you too.”

 

He was probably right— of the three of them, Gina was the least likely to go on a vengeance spree.  Raven had meant it when she told Bellamy that Gina was too good for him, but what she’d really meant was  _ she’s too good for both of us _ .  “I’m sorry my dick husband stabbed you in the leg,” she said instead of anything sentimental.  Bellamy snorted and stepped back.  “Don’t die out there,” she warned him.

 

“I’ll do my best,” he said drily, and swung himself up onto his mount.

 

Roan was waiting patiently beside his horse, a safe distance away.  “You stay safe, my queen,” he whispered fiercely, and curved his hand around the base of her skill, resting his forehead against hers.  “I will come back to you.  I promise.”

 

“You’d better,” Raven said with a smile, and then sobered.  “I’ll protect them while you’re gone,” she vowed.  “And we’ll get that bitch ALIE, too.”

 

“I’ve never doubted you,” Roan replied, and then he was kissing her like it was the last time he ever would.

 

Raven kept her eyes dry and her head high as he climbed onto his white stallion and led her friends out in the failing light and into war.

 

**

 

And a month later she stood in the same spot as he returned.  

 

Victorious, both of them.

  
  
  
  


 


	2. Smutty Ficlet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not quite a sequel or a second chapter, but @youremykindagirl asked for more in this universe, and @queenofchildren had suggested strip chess, and I just can't resist this pairing right now.

The wind was howling just outside the windows, shrieking and whistling as the snow whirled about.  Raven stretched, feeling more than a little smug that her heating system was withstanding its first major test.  The turbines had stopped spinning to avoid shorting out, but they had banked three days of energy in the batteries Monty helped her build— three days for the _entire capital,_ not just the palace.  They were still working on installing heating systems in private homes, so for the moment they had opened several warming centers for the duration of the blizzard.  It was probably too much to hope that no one would freeze to death before the blizzard blew itself out, but Raven was hoping it would keep casualties to a minimum. **  
**

The door creaked open and Roan let himself in and she felt, rather than saw, the heat of his gaze land on the curve of her neck.  “Any news?” Raven asked without turning around. _He wants to look, he can look._

“A storehouse roof collapsed under the weight of the snow, but it’s mostly textiles.  We should be able to salvage most of them when the snow stops.  Making yourself comfortable, I see?”

Raven pulled the fur closer around her shoulders and took a sip of wine.  “I didn’t realize you wanted me to stay in my own chambers.  If that’s what you want…” she set her goblet down and made to stand up, but Roan placed his hand on her shoulder to stop her.

“I was more complaining that you’re still dressed,” he said in a voice that never failed to send shivers down her spine.

Raven made herself look unaffected.  “If you want me naked, you’re going to have to earn it.”  She slid her gaze to the chessboard set between the couch and the chair.

Roan leaned forward until his lips were just centimeters from hers.  “One item of clothing for each lost piece?”

“You’re on,” she breathed, his nose touching hers, and then whined in frustration when he pulled back instead of kissing her.

“Two can play at that game, my queen,” he smirked.  “Your move.”

Raven sacrificed a pawn two moves in and shrugged off her fur blanket.  Roan watched it slide off the couch and pool on the floor with a frown.  “You thought I’d start with something else?”

“Hoped,” he corrected.

“Well, hope springs eternal,” she grinned, making her next move.

Roan lost his bishop on her next turn and pulled his shirt over his head without hesitation.  “Going big with your first loss?” she asked, arching an eyebrow.

He grinned proudly when her eyes dropped to his chest.  “Distraction is part of the battle, my lady.”

Raven sucked on her teeth, because he was right.  She _would_ be distracted now.  So she sacrificed a rook and repaid the favor, gathering her lambswool sweater in her hands and tugging it off.  She’d stopped wearing a bra lately, and Roan’s eyes grew dark at the sight of her pebbled nipples.  But he didn’t say anything, just moved his queen.

Raven lost a bishop after her next turn, definitely not on purpose.  Roan leaned over and helped her with her brace without her having to ask, his movements practiced and deft.  She could remove it just fine on her own, but she appreciated the help.  He set the brace behind his chair as she wiggled out of her pants, leaving her in nothing but her panties.

Roan took off his boots when she took his other bishop, and ignored her annoyed tongue click.  She took a remaining pawn next, and that earned him another irritated look when he stripped off his wool socks.  “Not fair,” she whined.

“All’s fair in love and war,” he teased.

“Go float yourself,” she mumbled, and tore her eyes away from the way the firelight played across the planes of his chest.  Luck was on her side, and she had him cornered in three more turns.  “Checkmate,” she crowed.

Roan frowned at the board, clearly questioning her declaration of victory, but then stood and skinned off his breeches.  He never wore underwear— a fact Raven had come to greatly appreciate in the past year— and his erection bobbed against his inner thigh.  His eyes roamed her skin with a predatory leer, and a flush crawled up her neck.  “Going to collect the spoils of your victory, my queen?” he asked.  

Raven’s mouth went dry.  “Sit,” she ordered, and Roan complied, sitting back down in the armless chair.  She sat up and he held out his hand to help her balance on one foot as she rose.  It only took two hops to close the distance between them, and he eased her down onto his lap.  Her hip twinged a little as she straddled him, but she was lucky— it was a good day, and after that twinge the pain passed.  Roan’s hands skimmed up her thighs to her waist as she settled onto him, his cock hard against her center.

She kissed him just as he nudged her panties aside and trailed a finger through her dripping folds.  Raven closed her eyes and moaned, tipping her head back just as he nipped at her throat.  His fingers were skilled, teasing her clit and then pressing inside of her until she was shaking and keening in his hands.  As always, she came hard when he pressed his thumb to her clit, and then he was lifting her in his arms and carrying her swiftly to their bed.  Roan sheathed himself inside of her in record time, her walls still twitching from the force of her orgasm as he entered her.  He thrusted hard and fast, just the way she liked it, until he was shaking too, his come hot inside of her.  Then it was sloppy, lazy kisses while he tried to hold himself over her, and when he pulled out and she curled onto his chest his heart was still pounding, as was hers.

Outside the wind kept howling, but inside the fire crackled as Roan pulled the blankets up and she snuggled closer, content.


	3. Outtake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @youremykindagirl requested Raven and Roan being spoken to by their advisors about having an heir.
> 
> Trigger Warning for a discussion of infertility.

The door to their chambers closed and Raven looked up from her book.  Roan’s scouts had found a cache of books in a collapsed building and she’d claimed half a dozen mystery novels to keep herself occupied during long Azgeda nights, but this one was worst than most.  “You’re done already?” she asked, not bothering to sit all the way up.  She was stretched across the couch, the fire roaring, with blankets piled over her.  There was no way she was risking a draft just to watch Roan cross the floor, as nice as that view might be. **  
**

“Nothing that cannot wait until tomorrow,” he said and lifted her by her shoulders so he could sit down with her head in his lap.

Roan started running his fingers through her hair and she closed her book— she’d guessed the murderer ten pages ago anyway.  “Anything I can help with?”

Roan looked thoughtful.  “There is… one thing we should discuss.  My nephew sent a letter.”

“Your heir.”

He nodded.  “He’s requesting permission to come to the palace this summer.  Meet my advisors, perhaps drill with the army.”

“He’s a kid, right?”

“Thirteen.  Old enough.”

Raven rearranged her head to look up at him better.  “You want my permission for him to come visit?”

“I’m wondering if— if he’ll remain my heir.”

 _Oh.  This discussion._  Raven had wondered when it would arrive, and here it was.  At first it had seemed pointless, since she planned on murdering Roan and blowing up the palace.  But now— he deserved to know.  “Abby said…she said the bullet might have…damaged things.  There’s no way of knowing, not without tech that would take years to design.  But I might not be able get pregnant.  Most likely can’t, actually.”

“Does that…sadden you?”

“Not having kids?”  Raven shrugged.  “I never really considered it one way or the other.  On the Ark it seemed pointless, and…everything else has seemed so much bigger since we came down that I just never thought about it.  But…no, not really.  I don’t think it saddens me.”  When Abby had told her, children were so far from her mind that she barely shrugged.  And even now she didn’t really feel like it was that much of a loss, because she liked her life as it was.  She swallowed and forced herself to look him in the eye.  “Did you want them?”  She tried to remember if Roan had ever expressed interest in kids and came up blank.  He wasn’t like Bellamy, constantly mothering people who didn’t need it, and she couldn’t remember Roan ever seeming interested in children as a species.  But then again, Raven wasn’t sure what she’d do if he said he wanted them, because it wasn’t like she had a lot of options on that front anyway.

His hand brushed across her forehead, a gentle touch for someone so deadly.  “My mother was…not maternal.  I knew I needed an heir if I ever wanted to be king, but I can’t say I ever really wanted a child of my own.”

Relief coursed through her veins.  “So then your nephew comes and learns to be king.  He’s not like, a psychopath or anything, is he?”

“As far as I know, no,” Roan said with an amused smile.  “Perhaps a little solemn for a child, but a good boy.  Smart.  He’ll like you.”

“Course he will,” Raven bragged.  “Who doesn’t?”

Roan laughed at that.  “Who doesn’t indeed, my queen,” he said, and cupped the back of her head to lift her up for a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, this is maybe not the ending for them some of you wanted. But I tried imagining them a dozen different ways, and nothing struck me as true to the characters the way this discussion did. I don't view this as an unhappy ending at all-- quite the contrary, since they're very happy together-- but if you disagree...please forgive me?

**Author's Note:**

> I left the end deliberately vague because I have no idea where this ALIE plot is going to go and honestly I didn't even want to try to speculate.
> 
> Title courtesy of Nicki Minaj.


End file.
